mature, sensible schoolteacher. She was facing something she hadn't given a serious thought to in her entire working life. Sue Myers faced the possibility of financial disaster in the Terra Art store.
Bill Bradfield, who had hardly set foot in the store while she was working two jobs, told her that she was silly to worry so soon. He said that he would never risk their economic future. It just takes businesses a while to get going, he assured her, and the art store was her idea, after all.
She wondered if this dangerous refusal to bail out now was some sort of unconscious attempt to score a little victory in the world of commerce. To prove something to the old man who still doled out money to his son on special occasions.
Sue Myers always thought that instead of loving his parents as he claimed, Bill Bradfield hated them. It gave her night sweats because it seemed to relate to the real danger of financial ruin for both of them. On top of all this were recurring fantasies that at this very moment as she lay suffering, he might be in the bed of Susan Reinert. Yet he swore that he couldn't bear the woman, and in that he seemed truthful. She was sure that he actually despised Susan Reinert no matter what he did with her.
Before Sue had started growing numb trying to understand and anticipate the moves of Bill Bradfield she used to wonder about his feelings toward women in general. He had once told her a strange story about his friend Tom, a drama critic who'd lived with him and his first common-law wife, Fran.
Bill Bradfield had decided that his common-law affiur with Fran should come to an end and so he persuaded Tom to attempt a seduction of Fran. If Tom could manage to get Fran in bed, Bill Bradfield was going to take some pictures with a hidden camera and force Fran to leave the relationship quietly. It was a strange and disturbing story, particularly since Tom the seducer was homosexual.
Bill Bradfield's most extravagant need was for that oceangoing sailboat, but Sue had long since believed that to be just another symptom of the child in him that had originally attracted her and was making her crazy. As she now had to face impending middle age without an economic safety net, she started tallying up the emotional debits and credits. His inconsistency revealed itself in every facet of life.
One of their cars was a Volkswagen. He had decided that he was going to take care of the VW to save money. He couldn't replace a light bulb yet he bought a full set of expensive metric tools. He never turned a bolt.
There was the world's most expensive tennis racquet that never played a single match. And a set of Latin grammars he had to buy because he thought their friend and neighbor Vince Valaitis should learn Latin. They were never opened.
He had five thousand books in that apartment, and more stored away in the attic. Most had never been opened.
"I seldom saw him read," remembered Sue Myers. "And I mean during our entire time together."
Then there was the piano. Sue Myers was able to trace that one to his childhood. It seemed that his family had sent his sister to the Peabody Conservatory to study music. Young Bill Bradfield got jealous and decided that he too had musical talents. He was positive that his parents would buy him a piano for his birthday. What did he get? A toy truck.
Now a $3,000 Stieff piano was sitting in the living room of their apartment. Bill Bradfield called it proudly a "Southern Steinway," and said it had antique quality. He had lessons for a while. He said it took him back to the good old days in the
Haverford College glee club. He was determined to learn to play.
One day the music stopped and he never touched the piano again. That's the way it was for Sue Myers with Bill Bradfield: either symphony or silence and nothing in between.
As she lay alone in her bed and thought about all this and faced the prospect of financial ruin, it suddenly occurred to her: That old piano in the living room had cost
Bill Bradfield, who had hardly set foot in the store while she was working two jobs, told her that she was silly to worry so soon. He said that he would never risk their economic future. It just takes businesses a while to get going, he assured her, and the art store was her idea, after all.
She wondered if this dangerous refusal to bail out now was some sort of unconscious attempt to score a little victory in the world of commerce. To prove something to the old man who still doled out money to his son on special occasions.
Sue Myers always thought that instead of loving his parents as he claimed, Bill Bradfield hated them. It gave her night sweats because it seemed to relate to the real danger of financial ruin for both of them. On top of all this were recurring fantasies that at this very moment as she lay suffering, he might be in the bed of Susan Reinert. Yet he swore that he couldn't bear the woman, and in that he seemed truthful. She was sure that he actually despised Susan Reinert no matter what he did with her.
Before Sue had started growing numb trying to understand and anticipate the moves of Bill Bradfield she used to wonder about his feelings toward women in general. He had once told her a strange story about his friend Tom, a drama critic who'd lived with him and his first common-law wife, Fran.
Bill Bradfield had decided that his common-law affiur with Fran should come to an end and so he persuaded Tom to attempt a seduction of Fran. If Tom could manage to get Fran in bed, Bill Bradfield was going to take some pictures with a hidden camera and force Fran to leave the relationship quietly. It was a strange and disturbing story, particularly since Tom the seducer was homosexual.
Bill Bradfield's most extravagant need was for that oceangoing sailboat, but Sue had long since believed that to be just another symptom of the child in him that had originally attracted her and was making her crazy. As she now had to face impending middle age without an economic safety net, she started tallying up the emotional debits and credits. His inconsistency revealed itself in every facet of life.
One of their cars was a Volkswagen. He had decided that he was going to take care of the VW to save money. He couldn't replace a light bulb yet he bought a full set of expensive metric tools. He never turned a bolt.
There was the world's most expensive tennis racquet that never played a single match. And a set of Latin grammars he had to buy because he thought their friend and neighbor Vince Valaitis should learn Latin. They were never opened.
He had five thousand books in that apartment, and more stored away in the attic. Most had never been opened.
"I seldom saw him read," remembered Sue Myers. "And I mean during our entire time together."
Then there was the piano. Sue Myers was able to trace that one to his childhood. It seemed that his family had sent his sister to the Peabody Conservatory to study music. Young Bill Bradfield got jealous and decided that he too had musical talents. He was positive that his parents would buy him a piano for his birthday. What did he get? A toy truck.
Now a $3,000 Stieff piano was sitting in the living room of their apartment. Bill Bradfield called it proudly a "Southern Steinway," and said it had antique quality. He had lessons for a while. He said it took him back to the good old days in the
Haverford College glee club. He was determined to learn to play.
One day the music stopped and he never touched the piano again. That's the way it was for Sue Myers with Bill Bradfield: either symphony or silence and nothing in between.
As she lay alone in her bed and thought about all this and faced the prospect of financial ruin, it suddenly occurred to her: That old piano in the living room had cost
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